


Ten

by frozenpapers



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth, Fourtris - Fandom
Genre: F/M, sort of alternate ending but I kind of changed the plot so...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenpapers/pseuds/frozenpapers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tris and Tobias. Tobias and Tris. Six and Four. Four and Six. Everything about them is perfect. Except for the fact that she has been... asleep. For two years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. zero

Seconds. _Minutes_. **Hours.**

They passed by like dribbling water as he paced and paced and paced until his legs were sore. His hair unkempt as he dragged his calloused and wounded hands through them, muttering prayers to the God his parents had taught him. He could taste the bitter bite of blood course through his tongue as his teeth clamp on his lower lip, the pain a dull haze due to the thoughts that were swimming and swimming through the doubt. His eyes cast on the dull white door he had grown to loathe, and was taken aback when they landed on Matthew, who eased his way out, the grief evident on his face. And even though he was a friend and had a logical reason as to why his presence was required – being the only nurse available on the holidays, of course – the jealousy was still in him, brewing and hissing at him like a snake. He scowled, but suppressed it with a sorrowful grimace as he came to a halt and forced his frozen feet towards the only person who could provide him that information he needed.

He fought the tremble in his voice as he tried to stand still. “Is – is she…?” he found himself unable to finish the sentence as his gaze fall back down to his feet, then to his hands that he now realized were shaking.

Matthew tried to fight the grief in his voice, hoping he could sound strong for Tobias. “She’s in a coma.” He said in disbelief, almost to himself as the tears came in a sudden vast he had to place a shaking hand on Tobias for support rather than comfort. He knew her little, but he cared for her like a sister.

Tobias drew a shaky breath and tried to say something, but Christina – who he forgot was there with the others – beat him to it. “Like Uriah?” The pain in her voice was evident as she stared at the forsaken white tiles.

Matthew could only nod as he brushed the tears away from his cold cheeks.

Tobias shook his hand away from his shoulder, not wanting the comfort. “Can I see her?” he asked, his hand already closed on the tiny knob.

Again, Matthew could only nod his head.

Without looking at the ashen faces of his friends – the people who shared memories with Beatrice with him, he twisted the knob and let himself in, the beeping of the apparatus already too much for him to take. His eyes immediately find the pale figure rested on the bed and took shaky strides toward her. He breathed through his nose as he blinked away the tears that clouded his vision. A mischievous tear rolled down his face and plopped onto her cheek as he looked down at her, his lip clamped again between his teeth. A shudder vibrated through his spine as he ran his finger on her cheek, the wave of grief coming in tremendous waves. Another shaky sigh, before he let himself crumble on the seat adjacent to the bed, next to the apparatus – _heart monitor_ he wanted so badly to smash into bits.

“I’ll wait, no matter how long.” He managed to keep his voice stable, at least for the sentences he wanted to say to her. “I love you, Tris. I’ll see you soon.”

And right now, he wouldn’t give a damn whether her chances were a **zero** or a fifty. _She’s alive_ , and that’s all he needs.


	2. one

The constant shrill of the goddamned phone wasn’t the one that kept him perturbed the entirety of the night, but nevertheless, he threw a pillow at it, and when he missed, he used his wide vocabulary of insults and profanities as he slung an arm above the white pillow over his head. A groan of protest escaped his lips as he forced himself to succumb to the numbness of sleep, albeit he knew that he would end up thinking – or worse, even _dreaming_ of her. But unconscious was better than conscious. The bitter taste of the guilt and the pain that kept on wrenching at his heart like a screw was the last thing he wanted for breakfast, so to speak. And if he could just get enough distraction, that would be marvel. So, he tried to avert his thoughts into something of no sense and forced his heavy, stinging eyes close. He twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot in the surprising big bed, his feet dangling just a bit over the edge, his arm wedged underneath his sweat coated back, and his mind irritatingly sober. He clamped his teeth on his sore lip as he stole one gaze on the morning sun and cursed again, one for himself, and one for _her_ , for keeping him awake for weeks and counting. But of course he couldn’t just blame her as it wasn’t her fault _entirely_. It wasn’t her fault waltzing into the death trap her mother’s former flame had set up. Persistence wasn’t the one to blame for. And if he blamed her brother, the _know-it-all_ Caleb, he knew it would be too wrong as he was as shaken as he was. But of course, just like those of courses in the whole universe, she wasn’t supposed to be _there_. Caleb was _supposed_ to be there. And again as if she was right there, lecturing him about blame and how it wasn’t very _dauntless_ of him, placing someone – albeit the fact that he deserved it after all he has done – wasn’t right. He can’t just wish for someone to take his girlfriend’s place.

Cursing, he turned on his front and buried his face into the sheets that smelled too much like her, the shrill a dull ache as the tears came inevitably. He shuddered violently as the warm tears seeped in the sheets she had once lain on with him. The image of her frown splitting smile had tugged another string at his heart and twisted the blade that was already there. He could just remember how the sun’s brilliant slants played on her pale face and illuminated the wide smile she had every morning. It was hard to believe that she wasn’t a morning person. With that thought, he could almost hear her moan as she stretches her arms just like every person does, could almost hear the jostles and the pan clinking in the kitchen, could almost smell her hair and the bacon she’s frying. Another tear escaped from his eye, followed by another and then another as he could almost feel the tickle of her breath on his ear when she whispers, _“Morning, Four,”_ as if it was a mantra. He could almost feel her, but of course, she was never here with him and conscious. He bit his lip as he shifted on his back and stared at the ceiling with grief gnawing at him again. Months had passed since he felt this certain grief, months before she was there to help him forget the dirt on _Tobias Eaton_ , but this time, the grief was greater. He would take all of Marcus’s whips anytime. He shuddered again, before completely falling into a merciless sleep.

He woke up thirty minutes later when the sun was a huge ball of fire perched on the thin clouds. He rubbed his eyes with haste as he could feel a piercing ache encompass his head. He groaned as he swore that he had lost half of the day even when it was just six in the morning. He was surprised to hear the same shrill reverberating the all _too_ empty room. He allowed another profanity escape his lips before he stood up and hunted down the goddamn machine. The ire was brewing a storm inside of him as he narrowed his eyes into slits, the edges of his eyes red due to lack of sleep and hatred. He snatched the phone carelessly and cursed when it landed plainly on his foot. He scratched his neck as he bent down to pick it up, whispering the cliché rhetorical question, _“Could this day get any better?”_

He grumbled before growling a decent, “What?” to whoever was on the opposite line.

“I…” Christina fumbled for words as the welcoming greeting wasn’t welcoming albeit she had expected and prepared for this particular side of him. What did she expect? The man was mourning for God’s sake! But it was not like she wasn’t mourning _either_. “Matthew wants to see you.”

The fear of losing her all over again sat above his ire, but he chose to suppress it and steady his already trembling voice. “At this time of the day?” it was likely of him to settle for a snarl instead of a whimper as he curled his fingers on the telephone, gripping at it like a talisman.

Christina drew in a breath as she placed her forehead on the wall, closing her eyes and letting the wave of hysteria take over. But surprisingly, she manages a steady voice. “He says it’s important.”

With that, she was answered with silence.

“Four – _Tobias_ , it’s been two months, we need to…” Even she was disgusted with her own words as her resolve broke. She wanted to enclose herself, to cry all over again just like she had when she found her cold on the tiled floor.

He couldn’t help the humorless hysterics as he almost split the green phone apart. He covered his mouth with a sweaty hand and clamped his teeth on his finger, hoping that the uncontrollable laughter would die down. He swallowed it like a pill as he ridded the film of sweat off his forehead. “Let her _go_?” He shook his head like a petulant child. “How about you tell him to coil his head with the stupid apparatus and kill himself so he could just _let it all go_? I’m not having this bullshit.” He threw his bruised fist on the wall as he ground his teeth until he could almost swear that it would break.

It was cold of him, but what could she do? “Tobias…”

“Don’t _Tobias_ me, Christina.”

She sighed. “He was her friend too. He loved her _too_.”

“But he never loved her like I did.”

With that, Christina was shut out with a slam and silence.


End file.
